


The Curves of Your Lips Rewrite History

by matan4il



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: AU, Art School, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mention of Homophobic Slur, Nude Modeling, Nudity, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, art student Eddie, nude model Buck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25337659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: The moment of truth is now, Eddie supposes. Should he stick around and satisfy his curiosity by talking to the model? Or rather flee before this guy has the chance to interest him even more?A prompt fill for an anon onmy Tumblr, who asked for art student Eddie and nude model Buck.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hugs thank you to the wonderful [Lana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ) and [Nilshki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilshki/pseuds/nilshki), who looked this over for me.
> 
> All feedback is welcome, please don't hesitate to contact me, to send me questions or prompts. 
> 
> Since it was requested on my Tumblr, there will be a part 2! 
> 
> **[Edited to Add, Sep 26, 2020:]** Thank you to [Ro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann) for making the beautiful cover art for this fic!

  
  


Eddie mutters under his breath. He hates being late in general and most of all to this nude drawing class he's been taking. 

Twenty four years old, just out of the army and finally able to go to college thanks to his service (yeah, he's told people before that he never had the desire to attend, but that's what you say when you don't have the money to do so), this is Eddie's favorite class, if for no other reason than the teacher, Ms. Wilson. Where a lot of art professors turned out to be little more than pompous dicks who seem to think their affinity to art is some sort of affirmation of their superiority as humans (it's not), she's someone who's honestly passionate about art. When she talks about it, she absolutely comes alive. Eddie doesn't say much in class, but her genuine love for it is feeding his soul after too many years spent in the company of people who would either frown at him for sharing his passion for art, try to put him down for it, or would straight up call him 'sissy'. 

Which means the last thing he wants to do is be late and unintentionally disruptive, but he obviously can't leave his newborn baby, Christopher, alone and by the time his Tia showed up that morning, apologizing profusely and explaining there was an accident on the highway she was taking to get to their house, his punctuality was out of his hands and all he can do now is offer his own sincere apologies as he's running into the classroom, breathless. He lets the door that he has urgently pushed through swing closed behind him instead of shutting it himself, as he's a bit shocked by coming almost face to crotch with a very naked male model. The guy is sitting on the elevated stage at the front of the class, his body turned towards the entrance, his thighs spread wide and his knees bent at two artistically diverging angles. 

With the model's legs spread and in Eddie's direct line of sight, it's impossible for him to miss that he's staring at someone who's incredibly well endowed. Well, that's the first inescapable and embarrassing thought that hits him. The man was gorgeous to a ridiculous degree - that's the second one which bewilders Eddie. This is not the first nude model he's come across in this class. He shouldn't be having these thoughts or be so dumbly frozen in place, staring at the guy's crotch in front of the whole class. And when Eddie tries to remedy the situation by quickly raising his head up, he's caught in the man's eyes. They're blue to a startling degree, with just a touch of morning clouds hovering over a mountain lake in them. In the corner above one of them is a birthmark, a splash of soft pink that only serves to contrast the blue and bring it out more. 

Eddie can feel his throat constricting in a feeble attempt to gulp, but his mouth is too dry and refuses to cooperate. He grabs at the bag he's carrying and holds it in front of him, almost like a shield, as if that's going to somehow save him from the awkwardness of the situation. He finally turns his head away from the stage to the class itself, in search of Ms. Wilson, when he realizes she's been speaking to him all along. 

"...don't mind explaining your tardiness..." the meaning of her speech finally registers and he hurriedly offers the explanation and apology that were on the tip of his tongue a second before he burst in through the classroom door. 

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Wilson. My son's babysitter was running late because of an accident on the highway..." he sees the disapproving look on her face softening a bit at the mention of Chris, though he doesn't expect her sympathy to be reflected in any other way.

"Accidents sadly happen constantly, Mr. Diaz. We can't have you running late that often." She pauses and adds, "Take your seat and let's resume the class." As he guessed it would be, her voice is no less dismayed than it was before he spoke, but she could have grilled him some more and didn't. He's spoken privately to her about the struggle of raising a newborn with chronic health problems as a single parent, so no matter how she reacts in front of the rest of the class, he's confident that she understands.

He quickly makes his way to the chair in front of his easel, puts down his bag and turns the sheets on his pad of paper to a new one. This is his favorite moment with every drawing. The page is so white and clean, virginal one might say. It holds every possibility in the world and contains no mistakes yet. In a sense, it's almost a pity to start drawing on it, taking away from all that potential the page holds and narrowing it down to the one final sketch that will take up residence there. Whenever Eddie starts thinking like that, his solution is to strike, rush out the first line of the drawing with an assuredness he doesn't really possess. Once that's out there, the rest will fall into place. The result might be more to his satisfaction or less, but once that first line is on the paper, the hesitation and doubts are gone.

He picks up his charcoal and looks to the stage at the front of the class, his hand hovering above the paper of its own accord, locating the right spot to land that first line and, in doing so, echo the image Eddie is trying to capture.

He freezes mid-motion. The nude model up on the stage still has his body turned in the same direction he did before, Eddie can definitely see his impressive manhood, but even though their eyes shouldn't meet, they do. That isn't meant to happen because the models that pose for the class aren't supposed to move at all. Yet, this one's eyes are on Eddie. And that's far too unnerving for him to be able to concentrate. After a few minutes of completely lacking the capacity to produce anything on paper, he goes to ask another student a question and while conversing, he glances over at the stage. His gaze and the man's meet again. Eddie returns to his station and, as he stares up from the easel, the same thing happens. It gets under his skin, because there's something about it which resembles a Mona Lisa effect: no matter where he moves to, he's always being watched. And not once does the stoic expression on the model's face falter.

Eddie lets it linger this time. He can sense the gaze focused on him running across his skin like water, at once flowing and clinging to him, vibrating at the same tempo as his quickened heartbeat, and this time when his charcoal-grasping fingers approach the paper, they don't stop. The strokes rain down and blend into each other so swiftly and easily that he can't follow his own process, just blinks at the paper here and there, barely catching what he's doing, between long gazes at the beautiful model on stage. At the man who, without changing his posture, somehow now seems more comfortable, as well as prouder, like he can tell that he's currently providing actual inspiration and not just body curves for the tracing.

Maybe it's because Eddie was late or it could be due to the time he lost even after he had arrived, but Ms. Wilson's announcement that class is over catches him by surprise. He inspects the creation in front of him as if it's the first time he's seeing it. There's a figure there, scorched into the whiteness, with its leftovers and edges smeared all over his own fingertips. Maybe he's not being objective, but he suspects it's the best drawing he's created so far, the body lines are unexpectedly smooth and in harmony, capturing a physique that's remarkable on several planes, while the facial features observe Eddie from the paper with that unknowable expression that's been following him this entire while. The likeness to the real man is uncanny. The sketched pair of eyes is stormy and veiled, the jawline determined, the lips full of promise for an outburst of laughter as much as for a disappointed frown, and the birthmark seals it all together in a way that feels, by now, almost familiar. It's as if every little detail insisted on making its way onto the paper and all of them, now joined together, were examining Eddie and waiting for him to catch up with something.

He puts the charcoal down, closes the pad and hesitantly looks to the front of the class. The stage is empty. Their model for the day must have put on the robe that's usually placed to the side at the beginning of the modeling session and walked into the back room to put his clothes back on. 

The moment of truth is now, Eddie supposes. Should he stick around and satisfy his curiosity by talking to the model? Or rather flee before this guy has the chance to interest him even more?

Ms. Wilson, making her way to the front of the class, is about to pass by him as he's wiping the charcoal off his fingers. It occurs to him that maybe she can help. Whoever this guy is, she must know him, even superficially, which is a starting point. Eddie turns to her and, without stopping to consider anything, draws her attention.

"Ms. Wilson?" He doesn't have a prepared question that will get him the information he's after, though. He hasn't exactly thought this through, just acted on instinct. She glares at him, making it obvious that she's unhappy he's keeping her from whatever she was about to do, her impatience most likely amplified by his earlier tardiness and disruption of her class. So he simply blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "The model today, is his, you know... physique..." Eddie's not the best with talking about things like that even when he means to, let alone when they slip out of his mouth without thought and especially when it involves his art teacher. He can feel the burning blush in his cheeks giving his mortification away, "- the reason why you booked this guy for our class?" 

"Huh." She practically spits that sound out and even the noise of the air leaving her lungs is screaming, 'I am a lesbian, child. Please do not insult me.' But then she says, "He's the only one of the first year students that doesn't show up for this nude modeling gig late, drunk or both. The rest is a bonus." With that, she proceeds on her way without waiting for his reaction.

Which is good, because the whole exchange horrifies him enough to shake him out of whatever stupor he must have sunken into. It doesn't matter how intriguing her answer is, he must be losing his goddamn mind and needs to get out of here while he still can.

He grabs his bag and heads out.

* * *

A week and a half pass uneventfully, only sporadically marked by thoughts of that gorgeous model and the gnawing sense of a missed opportunity. And if the completed sketch of that guy makes its way to Eddie's home instead of remaining at his station in Ms. Wilson's class, it's fine. He's made sure to hang it up on the inside of his closet door, where no surprise guests, like certain family members, can possibly come across the nude drawing by mistake. Plus, it's temporary. Until he gets the memory of the actual person out of his system and he's reduced to lines on paper and a pleasing aesthetic image, nothing more. After all, nobody can fantasize about any unattainable person, no matter how gorgeous, for too long. Can they?

The sun is pleasantly caressing Eddie while he's seated by one of the outdoor tables that belong to the student cafeteria. He's lazily chewing on a bite of his sandwich, happy that one of his classes got canceled so that, for once, he doesn't have to rush from one place to another during the so-called breaks. It's a small win, but he'll take it, eyes closed to soak up the warmth.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" a voice jolts him out of his reverie, pleasant enough that, for a second, it's as if the sound of it is a continuation of the sunlight he was basking in.

Not that he gets a lot of time to reflect on that, because as soon as his eyes are open and looking up, he recognizes the model that's been infiltrating his mind. "Ummm, yeah." He finds himself replying to the question of whether he likes this turn of events, before he catches himself and, flustered, corrects himself as quickly as he can. "I mean, no. It's not taken. You're free to sit down if you want to."

"Thanks," the guy raises a leg to straddle one end of the half occupied bench. Not that Eddie hadn't noticed how long those legs were - he's recreated them on paper and in his mind quite a few times - but witnessing them up close and in action has his brain short circuit for a few terrifying seconds.

"I'm Buck, by the way. If you're going to stare at me, I might as well introduce myself..."

"Eddie. And I wasn't..."

"You were and don't worry about it. Just mentally sketching stuff and people constantly, right?" The guy... Buck smiles and it's sincere in a way Eddie wouldn't have expected, clean of any belittlement. "If I could do that, then maybe I'd be taking art as more than an elective."

"You study art, too?"

"This one course, Beginning Painting. It's mostly drawing still life. I really suck at it." He laughs at his own open admission.

"So why do you take it?"

He shrugs. "To have an experience? I figured it can't hurt and besides, I love art. Being around it and people who are good at it. I really enjoy that," he says, staring into Eddie's eyes. "Plus, Ms. Wilson teaches that class and she's a legend around campus for being an awesome teacher."

"Isn't she great?" Eddie smiles back. He notices that during this whole conversation, he's been turning his body more and more towards Buck, trying to match the way that this guy was straddling the bench, fully facing Eddie. It gives him a bit of a buzz, because that's right. Most people would sit down at one side of the table the way he has, turned to its surface and not towards each other. Not Buck, though. So maybe he was looking to start a conversation more than he was for a place to sit. Maybe those eyes that Eddie felt locked on him during the class saw something that they liked. 

"Absolutely amazing. I suck at drawing, but her suggestions are always so insightful, I'm actually kinda improving. Not by much, but I'll take it. Plus, she suggested I come model for this class and I can't say no to some extra cash."

Eddie wants to comment on that, say he's happy she did, but it seems too forward. Buck might be interested, but there's still no telling in what exactly. Friendship, help with his drawing... something more? Better not make any assumptions. "So if it's not art, what's your major?"

Buck cocks his head to the side, like he's considering making Eddie guess it, but instead he then replies, "Psychology."

"You major in Psychology?" Eddie doesn't mean to sound as surprised as he does, but it comes out before he can stop himself, "I wouldn't have pegged you for that."

"Oh?" Buck raises an eyebrow and his tone is far too low and sexy. "What would you have... pegged me for?"

Eddie blushes profusely, aware that his embarrassment is, in fact, the telling part. Normally, he doesn't fluster this easily and he's wondering at the effect that this guy has on him. One thing's for sure, though. Eddie's gut feeling was right - the more he's learning about Buck, the more he wants to know. "I guess maybe something to do with business or economics?" He doesn't add, 'you have that air of confidence about you.' Again it feels too revealing.

"Nah, that's for people who enjoy making money. I like figuring out how things work. Especially complicated things. And there's nothing more complicated than people, is there?" Buck looks at him and smiles with just a hint of suggestiveness. It makes Eddie feel like he's the one who's being observed in the nude, seen for exactly everything that he is, with no possibility of covering himself up. It makes him nervous and, at the same time, sends an almost imperceptible but delightful shiver down his spine.

He wants to bask in it, because Buck is definitely flirting. Eddie may be a little rusty, but he can identify it very well when it happens, thank you, and enjoy it as well, but he has to be responsible and not let either one of them be led on.

"Ummm... you heard me mentioning my kid in class the other day, right? I mean..."

"Hey," Buck cuts him off, "I love kids."

That tickles some soft spot inside Eddie, on a deeper level than any flirting can get, and without thinking, he pulls out his phone and shows Buck a picture of baby Christopher, grinning with his big, beautiful eyes at the camera. "I love this one," he says.

"He's adorable." Buck's smile down at the camera is big and genuine, maybe even a bit brighter than the afternoon sun shining down on them. 

It makes Eddie want. A hunger unfurls in his gut that he hasn't allowed himself to acknowledge until now and he has to admit, it's nice just to give it its space and not push things down. And maybe it's all of that, in addition to Buck's eyes, that's making him brave, because the next thing out of his mouth is, "Hey, would you maybe like to grab a coffee together sometime? There's a nice little cafe I know not too far from campus..."

For one instant, Buck's face goes horribly serious, but in the next his responding smile is even more radiant than before and it makes Eddie sure he's made the right choice when joy spreads through every cell in his body in response. This is the first line, drawn boldly across the white paper, chasing all doubts away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The charcoal moves quickly on the paper, fighting movement and time in order to catch a small fragment of reality.  
> _
> 
> _Buck with baby Chris in his arms, held against his chest, pacing around in the living room._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the remarkable [Toughpaperround](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToughPaperRound/pseuds/ToughPaperRound) for beta'ing this chapter!
> 
> Dedicated with love to my wonderful friends, to [Jess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjmelville/works) and [Agnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine) who provided me with inspiring ideas for chapter 2 and to [Sibbed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibbed/works), who was the inspiration to write chapter 2 in the first place and then, to make the gifset that goes with it. 
> 
> Please, check out the cover art for chapter 1, made by the fabulous [Ro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann)! 
> 
> Feel free to contact me for feedback, questions, prompts, anything at [my Tumblr](https://matan4il.tumblr.com/).

  
  


The charcoal moves quickly on the paper, fighting movement and time in order to catch a small fragment of reality. 

Buck with baby Chris in his arms, held against his chest, pacing around in the living room. 

Eddie and Buck had gone on a small number of dates, mostly at cafes in the vicinity of their campus, talking art and psychology, favorite movies and worst childhood memories over a cup of aromatic coffee. But Eddie never got as nervous for any of them as he did for the first time that Buck was about to meet Chris. If that wouldn't work out well, the rest wouldn't have mattered anyway, no matter how much they clicked and how many laughs they shared. No matter how beautiful Buck's eyes and smile were, to match the big heart Eddie was gradually discovering. His aunt Pepa had insisted on being there as well, ready with her inquisitive small talk and appraising eyes, trying to figure out if this new guy was good enough for her Eddito, especially after Christopher's mom had taken off shortly after his delivery. "You're a good boy, Edmundo," she had told him after he had been trying to dissuade her from piling too much up on Buck, "but it's going to take you at least 80 more years before your judgment on men is better than mine." She meant well, he knew she did and at the end of the day, that was what really won her the argument. 

When the doorbell rang, she met Buck at the door straight away, before Eddie had a chance to intercept. That did not bode well as she probably has the most piercing pair of eyes ever and her tongue is sharp enough to scare most people away, even those not already tasked with meeting the baby of the person they were dating. 

"And you are?" She fixed Buck with a stern look. 

His responding smile was broad, his confidence masking it if he had noticed her tone. "Incredibly pleased to meet you, Ma'am," he said, shaking her hand in a gentlemanly manner and next, pulling out a box of chocolates and presenting it to her. "Eddie told me these are your favorites?" 

"Well," she replied, taking the offered gift. "At least this one is making an effort." 

Eddie honestly wanted to die at that. Who wouldn't run for the hills after such a dismissive greeting and the hint of past, unforgiven wrongs? Buck didn't seem as affected, though. When he answered her, his voice was as wide open as his sincere eyes. "Of course I am," he reassured her, "because Eddie's worth it." 

Pepa gave him a look that either meant, 'damn right he is' or 'flattery will get you nowhere with me'. Knowing her, it was most likely both, served with a side dish of, 'you are definitely a charmer. I haven't decided whether I like that yet'. 

"Tia," Eddie raised his voice and she got the hint and moved to the side, finally allowing Buck in. 

Ironically, that was scarier. Once she was out of the way, there was nothing blocking Eddie out of view as he was holding his baby son in his arms, anxiously waiting for a reaction. 

Buck took a step forward and looked closely at Chris, who was asleep, unaware and unbothered. "He's beautiful." It was said gently, with the sort of awe that couldn't be faked and it was let out together with a breath Eddie would have never guessed that Buck was holding in. It was so honest that for a split second, everything was soft and bright in the world, as if a special light was being shined down on it. Eddie felt it inside of him, filling him up, a kind of tenderness that left room for nothing else. 

"Would you like to hold him?" he asked. He never meant to. In fact, when he had considered the option before that evening, he had decided firmly against it. Why put Buck in an awkward situation, where he might say no and feel bad about it, or might only say yes to avoid that? 

Buck looked up, his eyes big and bewildered. "Can I...?" and he didn't even finish the question, too weighed down by his own hesitation. 

Eddie simply responded with, "Reach out your arms." He then proceeded to carefully place Chris in the now outstretched arms, not quite letting go while molding those hands to properly hold a baby. There was a spark that ran between their fingers. Eddie's guided Buck's to support Christopher and the contrast between the large, awkward digits and the tiny, soft and vulnerable head was impossible to contain. Eddie suspected that whatever would happen with his new relationship, this image, coupled with the way Buck's hands felt under his while they were both holding Chris up, would own a part of his soul forever. 

A cough came from behind them and too late, Eddie remembered that they were not alone. 

They both turned around to face Pepa, their hands separating, leaving Buck to hold Chris on his own. 

"If the two of you are done cooing over the cutest child in the world..." 

Eddie smiled. "Tia, don't be jealous," he was trying to tone down the joy he felt over the inflection he caught in her voice. "Buck can come coddle you, too." 

It all flashes quickly through his mind as the charcoal races across the paper. Short, quick movements, one line added to and continuing another. The eternal fight between life's speed and art's need for time with Eddie's sheet of paper serving as the battlefield, his hand the only weapon. 

Chris was sobbing this evening over teething and Buck holding him has become enough of a routine over the last couple of months that there was no discussion around who was going to calm the baby down. So the sight shouldn't be out of the ordinary, demanding to be immortalized, but something about the way those two pace the living room together got to Eddie and he felt compelled to pick up his sketchpad and charcoal which he had abandoned earlier on the living room table. 

He's looking attentively at Buck, at the way his fingers curl around Christopher's head, the circles that he rubs into the small back with his other hand... The expression on his face. Impossible to define as it flickers between sympathy, joy and something preciously deeper that Eddie is too scared to name. He had to capture this and it's maddening, he has never tried sketching a person mid-motion and now, he has to. But then Buck gently plants a kiss on Chris' forehead. He hasn't done that before. And it's the first time Eddie's ever stopped in the middle of sketching. Doing that means losing the battle, but he has to. 

Twenty four years old is not over the hills in terms of romance. Logically, he knows this. But what's logic in the face of a newborn and single parenthood? The daily dedication to his son has washed away any thought and hopes of romance from his mind. Eddie hadn't even noticed them deserting him. Not until Buck came along, that is, with his cheeky grin and his easy manner, with this bold interest in Eddie and openness to Chris that surpassed any possible wish. 

And then this moment happens. Without any preparation. Sneaking up on both of them. Buck doesn't even seem to pay it any mind. Eddie is the one who's too struck to move, too fully aware of his dumb luck. Then his hand starts racing again, faster than before, driven by a newly found desperation. The paper no longer seems enough, but it's all he has when this moment has to be immortalized, because it must be, he feels it in his bones. He doesn't yet know how things will turn out, but one day, when Chris is older, he may ask about this repeatedly. And Eddie will have to retell the story in full detail every single time, reliving the moment when he knew that he could happily spend the rest of his life with Buck. 

When Eddie lifts the charcoal off the paper, he has in his hands a likeness. And a shade over him, the presence of another person looking down at the sketch. "I love it," Buck says. 

"I love you," Eddie replies before he has time to analyze things, doubt himself or go back and forth endlessly on whether to make this admission when it's still early on and when he's the first one to speak those words. "You don't have to say it back," he nearly panics. "I'm sorry, you really don't have to, but I don't... I feel it and I don't want to hold it in." 

Buck sits down next to him. Chris' head is resting on one broad shoulder, finally asleep. Eddie was so focused on the pair of them, yet he somehow missed that. When he raises his hand to touch it carefully to the back of Christopher's head, Buck catches and turns it over, lifts it to his mouth and kisses the inside of the wrist. 

"I couldn't take my eyes off you in that art class. Did you pick up on that?" They haven't talked about it. Eddie's never mentioned a thing about that morning in class, about the overwhelming presence of Buck's nudity and his intense glare. "The way your hands moved when you were sketching. I've modeled in a lot of classes and I can't remember seeing anyone with a passion like yours. I think," Buck stops for another kiss on the wrist, placed to the right of the previous one, "I fell for you a little there. And again when we went to that movie about the tornado chasers? Because you listened to me go on a tangent about the difference between tornadoes and hurricanes. You didn't sign up for that when you went on a date with a psychology student, but you just smiled. And every time you've laughed at one of my stupid jokes. And I also fell more when you talked about Chris for the time, and again when I saw the way that you were holding him. I've been falling for you for months, Eddie." A third peck to the wrist, even further to the right, like a bracelet of kisses. "And you think I'm not going to say it back? Try stopping me." Pepa's wordless assessment of Buck wasn't off, he was a charmer. But he wasn't being one at this moment. He was calm, intent and himself. "I love you." 

Eddie looks down at his wrist, still in Buck's grasp. No one's ever made him feel as wooed, as appreciated, as this man does. Chris is between them, still firmly asleep and Eddie can feel the tiny back pressing lightly against his chest as he leans in, his little boy comfortably snuggled up between his and Buck's bodies as they kiss. 

The first time they did wasn't even on a proper date. It was after another art class where Buck modeled. They both lingered afterwards in the emptying room and that somehow naturally eased over into the two of them having lunch together in the cafeteria. They ended up at the same table outside, Buck straddling the bench again, body turned sideways, only this time, Eddie was as well, facing him. They were comparing some experiences from Ms. Wilson's different classes, gushing over her sharp mind and wit, when Eddie noticed a smudge of chocolate mousse at the corner of Buck's mouth. It's not a conscious decision, it's an urge that takes over, surprising even Eddie himself. To close his lips over that corner. He did it before he even fully realized he was. And the shock ran through his body, of how audacious he had unintentionally been. Of how sweet the touch of their lips was. The chocolate added a nice flavor as well. But, oh. The best part was Buck, instead of pulling back in surprise, parting his lips and allowing the kiss to truly take hold. 

They've so often kissed since then, they've lost track and wouldn't be able to pinpoint each time, but this one's unlike any of the previous ones they've shared. Not after what they've told each other. Not when their bodies engulf Chris and their kiss completes that, with the touch of Buck's lips also still tingling on the inner skin of Eddie's wrist. When he eventually draws back, just enough to speak, it's because he wants more. 

"I think we're safe, putting him down in his crib for the night now," he says against Buck's mouth and gets no answer, only a small nod and breathlessness that Eddie can feel against his lips. 

They get up together and go to Christopher's room, where Buck lays him down carefully. That's always a nerve wracking moment. Will the sleeping baby wake up or not, will putting him to bed take a minute or hours? After one tense second, the sound of Chris' quiet breathing as he continues to sleep registers as lucky success and they exchange a look above the crib. They've been gradually becoming a family for a while now, but it's the words they confessed earlier that make it sink in at this moment. 

Eddie makes sure the baby monitor is on. Then, without breaking their gaze, he takes Buck's hand and slowly leads his boyfriend to the bedroom. It's been his alone for too long and now, after he'd stopped hoping that might change, he's tickled to think that maybe soon it could be theirs. 

"Model for me." Because suddenly, Eddie knows exactly what he wants, but his words come out somewhere between a question and a plea. 

It's been awkward during modeling sessions in class ever since they've started going out. Eddie's been feeling the need to distance himself from the way he first sketched Buck, be professional about the whole situation, leaving out any and all emotions outside the classroom. But he's been missing the possibility of sketching his boyfriend hungrily, of letting himself devour the beauty of Buck's nakedness insatiably, of dedicating himself fully to the image of the man stretched out before him. Of capturing his body in bold strokes, a style to fit the model. Because there is not a single line to Buck's features or curves which is shy. 

It fits who he is. The way he's kissing Eddie in response to the request, without holding anything back, then right away beginning to undress. 

"Lie down on the bed." The charcoal and sketchpad are in the living room. It's a short, quick sprint and Eddie is back just in time to have his breath taken away. Buck knows how to pose. His torso is sprawled out above the pillows, his head leaning against the headrest, with his legs parted on the bed and his cock demanding attention, already half hard. 

It's nothing like being in class, nor like when they've had sex. There's a deliberateness to this which is too intense for Eddie's mind to process, especially when he looks into Buck's eyes. 

What there are no words for, the charcoal has always filled in. Eddie opens the sketchpad to a new page, holds it in one hand and hovers the other one over the paper. He's about to draw the first stroke through the whiteness. For once, he's not nervous. Because that's a part of what Buck's been teaching him, that there are many firsts and many pages for Eddie to fill. That when they're so good together, he doesn't have to be afraid that a few strokes off, here or there, will take anything away from the greatness of the finished drawing. 

When his charcoal lands on the paper, he's so confident that the first few lines pour out one right after the other. His hand moves swiftly and his eyes go back and forth between, but in truth, they hardly rest on the forming sketch beyond the bare minimum. They're transfixed on Buck. On his figure and the way that it's built, how each part connects and surrenders to the next, where they are soft and where hard, the sight when the muscles move slightly underneath the skin. Eddie's taking it all in through his eyes as well as his bodily memory, whispering in his mind what it's like to touch Buck. 

It's liberating. Eddie's buzzing with it. Having permission to gulp it all down, consume his boyfriend like this, when there are no barriers to shield Buck from him. His hand moves and depicts everything, one contour at a time, then adding in greater and greater detail until Eddie finds he can't continue. His eyes, like his fingers, have stopped moving and are simply glued to Buck's. 

He should be reviewing what he's created in both of tonight's sketches, but he'll do that tomorrow. He's not too worried anyway, if he's honest about it. He's pretty sure those two might be the best drawings he'd ever created. 

But it's not important even if Eddie's wrong. He's being summoned and is dutifully putting the sketchpad and charcoal aside, without so much as a glance at them, following the call in Buck's gaze. The bed covers give way to his weight as Eddie kneels on them and covers his boyfriend's nudity with his body, aligning them just right for their mouths to meet. He kisses Buck. If it were at all possible, Eddie would always be kissing his boyfriend. How could he resist the temptation? Each time they come together like this is another drawing that they jointly create with their lips. 

And as sketching often goes, this has its own pace, too. The kiss starts chaste. Just the barest of pressure against each other, clothes grazing against skin, as Buck's hand comes up to run a thumb against Eddie's stubble. It adds some unexpected electricity to their kiss, this contrast everywhere between the soft and the scratchy. And pushes it forward, to be more demanding. Eddie, leaning heavier into his boyfriend, seeking entrance as well as to quench his thirst, and Buck, opening up to it like it's all he's ever wanted and he's just been lying in wait. He's fully grabbing now with both hands onto Eddie's face and drinks him in. Their tongues move faster, reach further, their necks continuously dance to reposition them for better access, the pace picking up fueled by passion and a newfound sense that they get to belong to each other. 

Eddie reaches up and cups Buck's face before he recalls that his fingers are still covered with dust from his charcoal. He removes his hand fast, noting stains in the form of his fingerprints on his boyfriend's cheeks. 

"I'm -" sorry, he means to say, but Buck stops him. 

"Go on," he encourages. "Touch me." 

So Eddie does. He places his index finger on a temple and draws a line down the cheek bone. Buck closes his eyes and his chest, where they're pressed together, gives away that his breathing is a little hitched after that. Eddie smudges the black dust on his thumb along his boyfriend's jaw and then his neck, while Buck lifts his head up to grant him freer access. 

Eddie stops his roaming hand because that pair of lips turned up at him is too tempting not to lean down and kiss. His thumb slots into the hollow right under Buck's chin and that's where he can feel it. The way they move together and against each other, tongue and throat muscles straining as their kiss grows increasingly needy and desperate. 

Eddie feels Buck's hands sneaking their way to his waist, holding until they start slipping under his henley, lifting it up. He moves back and raises his arms in the air to help. As he shifts his weight back, Buck can move his forward and use that as leverage to rise and complete his task, tossing the garment to the floor. 

"You're going to pick that up tomorrow," Eddie teases and it's okay, that this is a part of what they are slowly and surely becoming. 

"Might as well make it worth my while, then," Buck huffs out a laughter, seeking Eddie's lips while undoing his zipper. They lean towards each other and end up tumbling sideways onto the bed, finding themselves lying diagonally, unfazed and chuckling through the kiss as Buck struggles to get the pants and the underwear beneath them off. 

"I love you," he whispers out of nowhere into their joint grin. It doesn't have the same weight as before... and none of the fear. It's free. And right. 

Eddie returns it, the emphasis now on the last word. "I love you." He suspects he'll never get tired of saying it. 

Buck smashes their mouths together with conviction, then pulls away to finally complete his mission. Once he has Eddie naked, he discards the clothes off the side of the bed and falls onto his back with a small, faux-exhausted puff. 

"Awwww, tired already?" Eddie asks, laughing. 

"Just resting. Gotta keep my strength for the main event," Buck wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and honestly, it's more adorable than it has any right to be. 

Eddie looks down at his drawing hand. There's less charcoal dust there than before, but it isn't gone. He takes in the sight of Buck, who's still grinning, but it's breathy and not as wide as before, not when there's a discernible change in the mood. He's heaving a little and as his chest rises and falls, it makes his clavicles stand out even more. Those collarbones have always fascinated Eddie. How sharp and defined they are. They make him want to trace the lines they create with anything he might have at that moment. 

So he gives in to the impulse, laying the fingers of his dusted hand on the tip of one clavicle, leaving a fine line of charcoal upon the skin as he follows it. He continues until he almost reaches the middle, but then goes back, several times, until there is no mistaking the claim that he has laid there. Then he flattens that hand and moves its palm down across the skin to Buck's chest. Eddie lets himself grope and toy with the pec and the nipple at its center while he turns his focus back to the neglected side of his boyfriend's collarbones. His clean hand sinks into Buck's curls while his tongue runs in similar fashion across the unmarked part of the clavicles. He first journeys with the tip along the haunting contrast between hard bone and soft skin, but after he dips his tongue into the notch in the middle, he turns to sucking hickies from that point back to where he began. 

If Buck's breath was caught before, he's not holding it in anymore, moaning as his nipple is played with, as his collar bones are explored, as he lets go and loses himself in just how much Eddie admires the outlines of his body. Buck is a gorgeous man and he's well aware. From other people's attention, from Ms. Wilson wanting him to model for her classes, from the small reactions that students slip out before they remember they're in a classroom and should hide them. But Eddie is determined to show him in a way no one else has. 

Hovering above his boyfriend, he moves his flat palm down from Buck's chest to his abs, adding some pressure as he does. Eddie stretches his fingers out to feel every patch along the way, smearing the dark dust down while he progresses. 

"Enjoying marking me, huh?" Buck grins cheekily. And that's right, it's exactly what Eddie's been doing, but when it's put like that, he'd be instantly terrified that he's done the wrong thing, gone too far, allowed himself to want too much. He would be, if it weren't for the blissed expression on his boyfriend's face as he says it. "Stop worrying," Buck continues. He must have sensed where Eddie's head is at, placing his palms behind him on the bed and pushing his torso up, so they can kiss between one sentence and the next. "I want you to mark me." Kiss. "Because I am yours." Another one and a little tug with his teeth at Eddie's lower lip. "Just like you're mine." A deeper kiss. "One of these days, I'm going to be the one sketching you. It won't be as good as yours, but you'll see then. And until then, I..." Buck shoves at Eddie's chest, forcing him down onto his back, "am going to remind you." 

There's lube in the top drawer of the bedside table and it takes less than a minute to retrieve it. There's no need for a condom, they've been tested and exclusive for some time. So Buck oils up his fingers and straddles Eddie's waist without delay, leaning down for them to kiss again. It's languid and sweet, chasing away any leftover clouds. Which makes Buck's next move surprising, to say the least. He grabs for Eddie's dick, who practically jumps at that, right in his boyfriend's hand. Unexpected as it is, it's also so very brash and confident, as Buck tends to be. "What was that?" Eddie asks, still not quite recovered. 

He gets an amused eyeroll in response. "The main event, duh." 

His cock is being maneuvered into position as Buck's weight is carried by his shins, on the covers and framing Eddie's hips on either side, his thighs up in the air. It's surreal to see this man so flushed and focused, sure of what he wants and pursuing it, exactly as he was the first day they met. But at present, there's an unspoken, exposed vulnerability to it. Buck's mindful that his every move is being watched and by someone who actually knows him beneath the surface. Beauty and imperfections of all kinds, Eddie has glimpsed both and he's still here. They both have and will continue to, that's what they choose when they exchange words of love and bonding. 

Buck's body is stretched back as he's reaching behind to open himself up with his lubed fingers and direct Eddie's dick in. There's power in the unapologeticness of the act. Then the moment of contact charges the air between them and the following, the one of breach, makes Buck hiss while Eddie gasps. They stop to absorb and process the sensations. It's nothing they haven't done before, but the events of the evening infuse it all with a different meaning. 

As Buck sinks in slowly on Eddie's length, his head rolls backwards, exposing his neck. The dark charcoal marks stand out against his pale skin. He pushes himself down, spears himself open, bit by bit, gradually and with great deliberateness. Buck's caught in the swirlpool between needing more and having to pace himself, his muscles flexing and flowing with the effort of it. As they do, the charcoal stains move, almost taking on a life of their own, vague forms in the mist, recounting a story of fate and love. 

That's when Buck appears to have lost his patience, shoving himself down the rest of the way, his legs now folded around Eddie's pelvis. They both groan at that. It's just too much at once and no human brain was ever created to handle this. But then Buck moves again, probably before he managed to fully recuperate himself, sliding up and down on the dick now filling him to the hilt at a pace of his own setting. And the charcoal sways along with him as he chases his pleasure, emphasizing every curvature and movement. 

They grunt and expire at every hip tilt, with each time Buck raises and plummets down his ass, until finally Eddie, eyes still mesmerized by his boyfriend's charcoaled body, can't take it anymore. He grabs at Buck's hips and starts thrusting upwards, meeting every downward motion with the force of Eddie's desperate abandon. It makes his boyfriend's legs stutter, close to giving in, hands reaching for, holding on and directing his. 

Eddie rolls them over so he's on top, their bodies flush so close together that he's vaguely aware the charcoal must be rubbing onto him as well. He starts pounding into Buck with all he has left, rolling his hips and kissing his boyfriend with desire and a newfound sense of security, plunging into him repeatedly on both ends. His hand is back on Buck's jaw, his throat, his chest. 

Eddie feels something wet spreading quickly between them and registers it must be pre-come from the friction between their bodies. It's with his still somewhat dusted hand that he grips Buck's cock and begins jerking him off, delighting at the way he loses his breath in their kiss. 

Because they're pressed so close against each other, the next thing Eddie can sense is the simultaneous tightening of everything in Buck's body, his abs, his legs, his ass. It's sharp and quick, his orgasm. An intense scream in Eddie's ears. And in his veins, speeding up his own climax in the sinful clench that comes in waves. He spends himself inside his boyfriend with his last, deepest jab and falls apart in the spilling of pleasure and its aftermath. 

When he can focus once more, his attention is attracted to the semen squirted earlier onto Buck's abdomen and chest. Eddie touches it curiously, mixing the seed with the charcoal dust. He could paint like this. He just might, if he gets permission. Looking up into Buck's eyes, he sees it already waiting for him there, shining along with love. He remembers the first time that blue gaze rested on him in class and it hits him, how much progress they've made in their togetherness. 

"Go ahead," Buck encourages and Eddie has no idea what's going to come out of using this unusual mixture to paint, but he already knows that to them, it will be a masterpiece.


End file.
